Dead South Rising (Book 2): Death Row by Sean Robert Lang Read Free Book Online

told that to all her patients, her canned pep talk. David had no doubts he’d pull through. He just questioned whether he wanted to.
    For Bryan’s sake, he’d asked Dr. Gonzalez to cover as many of his wounds as she could. Didn’t want the boy to see all his cuts, his plum of an eye, his battered and broken nose. The thread in his face. She obliged as best she could, saying she was going to anyway, after she stitched him up, closed his cuts.
    The knock at the door persisted, and his lips thinned. He wished whoever it was would go away. He wasn’t done, too busy feeling sorry for himself, inflicting an internal beating Sammy and Gills could never deliver.
    The door clicked, opened with a slow swing, dainty fingers curled around the edge.
    “Knock, knock,” Jessica said, her voice soft and low.
    David thumbed away the errant tear. His voice cracked. “Yeah.”
    “Hey.” She smiled, almost apologetically. “Someone wants to see you—”
    He turned his head back to the window, and gave a shallow head shake. “I don’t know, Jess.” A light cough. “I’m not really ready…”
    Jessica cleared her throat, and Bryan stepped into the room, a sheepish smile on his face as he gripped a small cardboard box tightly against his chest.
    “An important visitor,” she said, an urging in her tone and eyes.
    David turned back, glanced at the boy and the box, then shot Jessica a look that begged, later , let’s do this later .  
    Her brows soared, eyes widened, a mother silently prodding her child.
    Feigning enthusiasm, he acquiesced. “Hey there, champ.” It was less than convincing.
    The boy looked up at Jessica, unsure, the vibe in the room an unpleasant one.
    “Bryan brought you a present.”
    A weak smile, a nod, then David turned his eye back to the window.
    Jessica twisted her lips, sighed. Patting Bryan on the back, she started to steer him back into the hall, but stopped. “Here.” She reached for the box. “Let me take that. We’ll leave it for him so he can open it when he feels better, okay?”
    Bryan hesitated, clutching the present. “It’s for David.”
    “I know, sweetie. We’ll give it to him. Those bad people won’t take it again.”
    The boy pressed to his tiptoes and whispered, as though he were telling the gods a secret. “I have to.”
    She eyed him curiously. “He’ll get it. I promise.”
    Reluctantly, his small hands released their grip, allowing Jessica to take the gift.
    She crossed the room, set the box on the edge of the bed. She glanced back at Bryan, then told David, “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot. We all have. But, please, for the boy’s sake… he’s been eager to see you. He’s been so patient.”
    David simply nodded, lazy gaze still glued to the glass.
    She blew another breath, exasperation swirling in it. She crossed her arms, raised her voice. “David.” A moment later, “ David .”
    He swiveled his head slowly, his empty eye locking on hers.
    With an upturned palm, she motioned to Bryan, who stood in the doorway. “He brought you a present. The least you could do is say, ‘ thank you .’”
    David couldn’t seem to focus his mind or his sight, both shifting, drifting, chasing his wandering thoughts. His gaze landed everywhere and anywhere, but avoided Bryan. Finally, with his chin dipped to the floor, a pained whisper left his lips. “Thank you, Bryan.”
    Jessica huffed, tilting her head.  
    David glanced up at her, the world in slow motion. He wanted to be alone, just left the fuck alone . He wasn’t done beating himself up, yet. Wasn’t done making himself… hollow.
    “David… please.”
    He sat there, motionless. Finally, he held his palm to her, but kept his gaze grounded.
    Understanding, she pulled her knife from its sheath, handed it to him. Embarrassed, she smiled at Bryan.
    The hilt felt wrong, like it didn’t belong there in his grip. He’d lost his own knife—Mitch’s old knife—at his house, where he’d been jumped,